


Bad hiding places

by Veei



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Abuse, Gen, death (suggested), sad headcanons, unnamed Clegane sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veei/pseuds/Veei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after being burned, 9yo Sandor wakes up one morning and can't find his sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad hiding places

**Author's Note:**

> There's only one line in AGOT from Eddard about the Clegane daughter. But it always made me wonder a lot. Also it got me very sad.
> 
> This short piece is set two years after Sandor was burned, he's around 9, the sister is 13 and Gregor is 14.

He called her name on every floor when she didn't come to wake him. They were to go to the village in the morning, she had talked about a new tunic she would make him. Lately her little brother outgrew everything. 

It was still winter, and the cold bit his bare feet harshly when he opened the big doors of the hall. The windows stood wide open and there was water pooling over the cracks of the floor stones.

At that Sandor paused, the air didn't smell of rain. 

When he called her name for what would be the last time, his father jumped on his chair at the other end of the room and peering into his red eyes, Sandor knew she was dead.  
The silence had already told him everything. 

Sandor ran out of the hall, panic hacking his breath before he even reached the stairwell. Two years after Gregor had his face coated in embers, his scars had started settling but at this moment they pulled on every corner of his face. It felt as if they reached all over him. The boy clenched his teeth hard as he went up, he didn’t want to cry here. 

She had said she would have taken him with her. She wanted to go. Anywhere was good. They had needed to wait for her to be older, only a couple of years so she could work for them both. It would have been over so soon. They could cross kingdoms, walk to Dorne or to the Wall, just the two of them. She had said if they just left, Gregor would let them live. Gregor would forget them. 

She had said men could be harsh but there were no other monsters like Gregor. One day people would know. Someone would kill him and free them. She had said they didn’t have to live in fear for the rest of their days. 

When Sandor had finally broke the lock of her door, using all the strength his little arms could master, he had found an empty room, gutted of all that had been hers. Her books, her dresses, the balm she prepared for her little brother, it was all gone. It could only mean the servants had helped too.  
Only the bed was left, bare, too heavy to be moved. Sandor’s heart turned to stone in that empty room. The one that was right next to his. He hadn't heard a thing in his sleep. 

Sandor ran out of his home. He ran to the hollow trees that were deep into the woods and hid for days, then nights, and the rest of his life if he could. His body curled in a ball, he hid his face behind his arms, his feet tucked under him to keep them warm. This was where they used to hide together and she would lie and promise he would be safe. Her warmth and her stories were in the past, and he could never reach her anymore. She had filled him with words when Gregor only wanted silence.  
But servants found and brought him back to his father. Sandor had cried too much to fight back. 

When they dragged him back home, they served him breakfast with his father and Gregor. Sandor didn't know if he was more scared or angry, so he looked down and kept his tongue. He didn't even exist to Gregor that morning. 

The whole house pretended there had never been a sister. The servants only put three plates on the table. His father wouldn't say her name. His body retreating into itself, his face as grey as ash. The maester told Sandor he would be sent to lord Tywin when he was of age. How great an honor it was for the Cleganes to serve. Sandor would obey. 

But as he got up to leave, upon seeing the bite mark on Gregor’s hand and the deep scratch that stretched from his jaw to somewhere under the shirt that covered his chest, Sandor’s stomach sent his food back up. He managed to escape his brother's steel grasp, this once, and crouched for a day and a night under an altar in the sept of the village.  
He wished he had died with her, she had been braver than him. 

Sandor knew he was getting too tall, soon he’d not fit where he used to hide. He would outgrew holes in the cellars as he outgrew his clothes. His steps would bounce on the walls, gaining noise, screaming he was still there for the killing. He would be tall enough to be seen. He would do something wrong. He wouldn't be fast enough. Gregor would hear him. And he would catch him. 

The dogs that protected them, him, were growing afraid of his brother too, now that she wasn't there to pet their ears. 

Later Sandor had looked for her grave, but he had only found a bit of her yellow dress in the ashes of the village forge. The terrifying dark hungry forge.  
It was because her body was never shown that Sandor had known their father had protected Gregor. Gregor didn't think beyond what he wanted to do, he only acted. He had killed her and it was just a detail to him. He might not even remember.  
By then Sandor didn't care anymore who had had a hand, they were too many. His father, their servants and the maester he was sure had helped too.  
At his age, Sandor had understood what justice meant, but he now knew it wouldn't be for her. 

Sandor swore he would never forgive, not for her sake. 

He knew he had to wait to leave, even longer now that she was gone. When he’d be just a bit older he could be free, find service, find work. He could get strong. He could be feared, but not like Gregor was. Never like Gregor was. But he could make people look away. 

He could make people too afraid he would bite first. 

But until that time, all Sandor could to do was stay.  
And wait.  
And survive.


End file.
